Ghost of His Past
by November7th
Summary: When he was a child, Libra was abandoned by his parents; thrown to the side and discarded like garbage to the heap. Now almost eighteen years later he returns to the town he once called home. It is here that he will finally find out why his parents had so blatantly forsaken him as well as the dark secrets within the manor on the hill, watching over his hometown.


**Hello everyone and thank you for checking out this story. A quick warning before we get started, while short, this story will become very dark and will contain some very dark themes. Things such as murder, potential rape, and the supernatural. This is rated mature for a reason. If those things make you uncomfortable then I suggest leaving this page and I thank you for giving the time to check this out.**

 **For those of you still left, I had originally created this story as a small side project for another story I'm writing called _Let's Go_. This story and that take place in the same universe of _Fire Emblem Awakening_ and is during the two year time skip between the war with Plegia and with Valm. Libra as a character always intrigued me, especially with his background during the supports, and with all characters in _Awakening_ have been given very little background to their background stories. Even more so, I was surprised no one had tackled Libra's life before joining the Shepherds and so I decided to give it a go. Libra may seem more angsty in this story than what you are usually used to and in turn may seem a bit OOC. Nonetheless I hope you guys give this story a try and I hope you enjoy. **

* * *

**Chapter 1**

"Momma! Papa! Please don't leave me! Don't make me go!"

"Get 'im outta here! I don't want to see 'im ever again!"

"Papa please!"

"Are you sure you want to do this, sir?"

"Ya! Just get that damned demon child out of me sight!"

"Papa!" the young, blond, short haired boy cried once again as the hands of an older individual held him back. His eyes smoked with tears, bloodshot and red; his face twisted by agony and despair.

"Momma!"

"We don't have much money but we will give whatever we have as long as we don't have to see him again!"

The owner of the orphanage paused when he looked at the screaming child and the two fearful parents. The screaming child was an unpleasant however common sight, but the eyes of the parents, the look of ghostly fear and interminable resentment, was a sight rarely presented to him. A sight that for some reason shook him to his core.

Only the young child's screaming was heard when he finally decided, "Take him inside, Trevor."

"No! No! Please, momma!" the boy wailed as Trevor's grip tightened on his struggling body and his parents began to walk away, their heads unflinching and eyes refusing to look back.

"No!"

Without warning the boy broke from the man's grip and ran after his family, wrapping his shaking arms around his mother's torso and forcing her to stop.

"Momma, please!"

The mother said nothing, her eyes were downcast and a deathly chill passed along the dirty, unpaved road, "Let me go, Libra," she ordered cold heartedly.

"No, momma! Please don't leave me!"

"I said get your filthy hands off me!" the woman snarled as she suddenly whipped around. When she tried to yank the boy off her he wouldn't let go, in her fury she dug her dirty and jaggedly sharp nails into the back of her son's neck, horribly damaging the flesh. "Let me go!"

Libra screamed and cried but not from the pain and refused to let go.

Suddenly the boy felt someone's hands hoist him into the air and hurl him with tremendous force back onto the dusty ground.

Libra stared into the back of his parents hastily walking away with his father comforting his crying mother when he for the final time crawled forward and screamed their names.

* * *

"Libra? Libra. Hmph, come now not again. Libra, answer me."

Libra blinked at the continuous calling of his name, not even realizing that the sun had long begun to set that winter day. He turned his head and saw the concerned eyes of the woman who set him as her guard. The same woman who since the conflict in Plegia was the only person that Libra had the closest resemblance to a friend.

Maribelle sighed as she slowly shook her head, "Your mind wandered off again. This has been the fifth time today, Libra."

Libra respectfully bowed his head toward the noblewoman, "My apologizes once again, my lady. I don't know what has gotten into me… Are you in need of my services at the moment? A word of prayer or some sort?"

Maribelle gave a hard stare at the war monk and opened her mouth to reprimand him about his distracted state, but the long day of political duties and magisterial studies had wearied the normally refined woman to a worn state. She sighed once more, "Hmm, no. Not now, Libra."

Libra raised an eyebrow at the woman for several seconds but nodded once more and stared out the carriage window.

It had been roughly three months since the start of Maribelle's trip across Ylisse that December evening. It was a learning experience, a journey to various cities across the country to witness and understand the various laws and procedures in each region. To become an even better magistrate in her own right when the time would come. Inside the well endowed vehicle at the moment was Libra acting as both religious console and bodyguard, Maribelle who was studying to become magistrate in her hometown, and Duke Mikhail, former judge and now judicial tutor to Maribelle.

Libra was hired by the noblewoman as a bodyguard not long after Prince Chrom and Lady Olivia's wedding several months prior. Her explanation for choosing him was because of his religious standing as a priest in case of strife and for his proven combat experience during the Plegian conflict in case of bandits.

But despite the young noble's reasoning, Libra suspected that his combat prowess and faith weren't the only reasons why she selected him to protect her during her travels. It was often when he was alone or working on his paintings that Maribelle would come into his sleeping quarters whenever they stayed at another noble's or working magistrate's home and asked about his current state of health. At first Libra's answers about his positive well being was enough to suffice the concerned women for the time being, but eventually the questions grew to be more difficult, more abstract. He continued to put on the guise that everything was alright but the noble would have none of it and eventually forced the priest to come to talk about the deaths of his fellow priests and friends.

Libra continued to lean against the carriage window with a hand at the base of his chin and glazed eyes staring at nothing but the oblivion. Not even noticing whenever the wheels hit a slight bump or when Mikhail sneezed.

Twelve priests, twelve comrades. Each and every single one of them killed attempting Exalt Emmeryn's rescue. Slaughtered by winged demons. Murdered. What semblance of family Libra had then was ripped away from him in a matter of hours. In that moment he was once again alone. Abandoned.

And no amount of mourning would change that.

Maribelle continued to peek at Libra every now and then to see if his expression had changed. hoping against her better judgement that he would. But still he continued to stare into the vast piles of nothingness.

" _He's been like this ever since we left Ylisstol two weeks ago. I thought I managed to turn him around, divert his mind from the death of his friends. All these months have; what has gotten into him?"_ she looked at Libra sitting across from her and saw the same scene. The noble turned her head to the left and saw her tutor Mikhail sitting on the far side of the cabin from her.

The much older gentleman had a head full of greying hair that was swept toward the side and a small facial beard that was connected to his mustache. His nose was angled in a way that gave him a hawkish appearance, and on his person was a suit of red adorn by a black and blue cloak. Maribelle knew the man for roughly five years, ever since she was fifteen. Heard his name even sooner whenever her family spoke of him. Duke Mikhail's personality was just as serious as his looks suggested. He wasn't a speaker but when he did, it was always brief and to the point. And though he retired from his duties as Themis's court judge due to his declining years, he had found the now permanent vacation boring and sought different positions to pass the time.

His current appearance now was nothing out of the ordinary.

Maribelle's glare intensified the longer it lingered on Libra, she was fed up and at her wits end as to why her friend's depression had come back all of a sudden. She needed to know or she too would lose her mind. And so she did what she did best which was the most direct approach.

"Libra, tell me what happened. What ails you as of late? Ever since we left Ylisstol several days ago you've been distant, docile even. Is something wrong?"

Libra looked up surprised and Mikhail continued to show no interest in the conversation, "Wrong? There is nothing wrong, I am just merely lost in thought."

"Lost in thought and frequent lifeless stares are two different entities, Libra," Maribelle argued. "It has become far too common. In fact I am unable to focus on my studies because of the distraction you cause me. What happened in Ylisstol while we were acquiring supplies?"

"Nothing, my lady-"

"Libra."

"Maribelle, perhaps it would be in your best interest not to become so flustered," Mikhail lazily interrupted in a monotone voice and with eyes still gazing out his respected window. "It's been a long day of riding so I'd rather not listen to you two squabble over paltry mishappenings."

The young noble woman glared at her tutor with unadulterated irritation, but still his bored, nonchalant behavior was the only response she received. She turned her head back to resume her agitation at Libra but when her gaze met his concerned eyes her anger began to falter and she couldn't help but begrudgingly look away.

A half hour of painful silence filled the cabin as Maribelle and Libra continued to avoid eye contact and Mikhail was on the verge of falling asleep. When Maribelle looked back out the window to pass the time she noticed that the world had gone dark but there was a faint trace of white snow slowly drifting past her eyes. In the far distance she could faintly make out the shape of a building, a mansion or some sort, sitting alone on a hilltop and watching the lights of a neighboring town. Parts of it marred by trees. She then placed her fingers on the wooden, sliding hatch behind her and spoke to the lone coachman behind the opening, "Wilson, how much longer until we reach Borealis?"

"Snow is finally beginning to fall, milady. If all goes well we should be at the town hall in an hour," a gruff voice answered her.

" _That long then?"_ Maribelle mused to herself before giving an understanding nod and replied. "Very well, Wilson. Once we arrive at our destination I will make sure you get some proper rest and food for the night. Thank you for your hard work."

"You are too kind, milady."

Maribelle gave another curt nod and then closed the latch. When she turned around she was none too surprised to see the exact same scene as multiple times before with Libra staring out the window and Mikhail's face pressed against his while fast asleep.

The young noble let out another sigh and decided to just open one of her books and study for the rest of the ride. Their destination would come soon enough.

* * *

When Maribelle opened her eyes, a cold chill was the first thing she noticed when the carriage came to a slow and steady halt. She brought her arms around her body to warm herself for the time being and knew immediately they had arrived in Borealis, the northernmost city in Ylisse which was built right along the Feroxi wall.

She looked around and saw that Libra and Mikhail too had fallen asleep during the ride and were still in a slumber even when the horses came to a stop. The carriage door opened and Wilson's gruff face peaked through.

"We've arrived at our destination, milady."

Maribelle stared back at the coachman trying to fight back the cold chill that rushed through the opening but gave a quick nod right after, "T-thank you, Wilson."

Wilson gave a slight bow with his head and held the door open.

As Maribelle got up from her seat she lightly pushed Libra on the shoulder and then Mikhail's to wake the two men up and tell them they had arrived. The luggage was then quickly taken from the vehicle and Wilson left to find the coach house to place the horse-drawn transport for the night.

Though evening had long already settled, the lights within the massive, noble mansion were still well lit. The tips of the roof looked as though they were brushing the underbelly of the sky itself. The day was winding down and Maribelle learned from asking one of the footman unloading their belongings that it was currently ten in the evening.

Once inside they were met with the warmth and comfort of a heated lobby. The interior boasted a terribly wide foyer with several paintings depicting faces and other important figures. There were displays of expensive vases, indoors plants that were not from this region, and animal heads ranging from elk, bear, and more exotic beasts that Maribelle vaguely remembered in her studies as a child.

The smell was like coals in a furnace as nearly every room in the mansion was lit by a hearty fireplace. The air inside was more comforting and slightly drifted into each person's nostrils like a warm blanket; a sharp contrast to the biting chill outdoors.

After a quick second of their eyes wandering the room, the duke, an older gentleman who appeared to be in his mid fifties with blackish hair faced the trio with a humble smile across his lips and a slight bow, "Greetings, Lady Maribelle. Mister Mikhail. It's good to finally make your acquaintance."

"A pleasure," Maribelle greeted with a bow by bending shortly at her knees. Mikhail nodded silently in return.

"I am George Levinson. Duke and current Lord of this estate. Your father sent word that you will be staying here for the next few days. Magisterial duties I believe?"

"Yes," Maribelle nodded. "Simple studies to understand the different variations and laws in each court. Depending on the crimes however we do not intend to stay for long."

"Of course," the duke nodded. "Ah, but pray tell me, how was your journey here? No incidents or interruptions I hope?"

"No such thing, Mister Levinson. Otherwise we wouldn't have made it here on such good time," the young noble girl smoothly replied.

Mister Levinson gave a soft chuckle, "Clearly," he motioned for the three to follow. "Come, allow me to show you to the dining hall. You all must be very hungry."

"Famished," Mikhail said sarcastically.

As they walked through the halls and Maribelle and Mister Levinson continued to make conversation, Libra recognized the view of empty corridors but heard the hustle and bustle of servants in the background cleaning but at the same time preparing for the guest's meals.

The mansion they were staying in stood on a thousand acres of land and had roughly two hundred rooms, with fifty to sixty of them being bedrooms for the servants, a master bedroom suite which consisted of several other rooms for the head of the household, bedroom suites for immediate family members and several other bedrooms for the guests. It also contained the main dining room, the servant's dining quarters, three to four large kitchens, thirty bathrooms, the mansion library, study hall, entrance hall, ballroom, a morning room, smoking room, music, art room, trophy room, gallery, a small chapel, a nursery, an olympic sized pool, stables, the coach houses, and the many other miscellaneous areas throughout the entire building. Mansions of this size normally employed about sixty to eighty people at a time.

Buildings such as this used to astonish the war monk, but now with the constant travels with Maribelle this no longer surprised him.

The four finally made their way into the main dining hall where the only source of light in the dim hall was a crackling fireplace behind the seat at the head of the table and the open windows revealing the illuminating stars of the night. They were all seated by the footmen and just like clockwork their dinner of boar, soups, steaks, wine, and other assorted plates were presented before them.

Mister Levinson thanked the head butler and allowed the three guests to dig in.

"So, Lady Maribelle, if I may be so bold, but may I ask you what is the cause of your desire to pursue a position in the magistry?" the duke asked not long after they had began their meal.

Maribelle took a sip from her soup and nonchalantly placed her spoon down before beginning her speech with practiced and prideful ease, "For my entire life I have lived in nobility. I have learned the arts, studied the classics, and have held myself in utmost dignity. For years I have lived a sheltered life and just like my peers around me, had developed a… 'snobbish' attitude if you will, toward the lower class," Maribelle paused for a moment to recollect some of her thoughts before continuing. "One day when I was five years old, Wilson, my family's coachman, had heard me say some nasty things in regards to some of the rioters breaking out in Ylisstol. With my mother's permission he took me to the commoner grounds in Themis and for the first time I saw something I had never experienced before."

"And what may that be?" Levinson asked.

"Commoners," Maribelle answered anticlimatically. When a confused look crossed Mister Levinson's face the young noble woman explained. "Men, women, children, the elderly, all lived in similar, deplorable lifestyles that I had not even begin to fathom at such a young age. I soon became interested in how they lived and when I learned about the imbalance of law between the two classes, I sought to become a magistrate to equalize those laws."

"Ah, a noble cause indeed. And quite curious. Normally when one sees the difference in status over their peers they often develop a superiority complex. But was it truly the sight of the downtrodden that disturbed you? Or was there another influence?"

"I admit Wilson was a contributing factor in my change of heart. I may not truly understand how the other half lives but I do strive to understand them and more importantly help them in their time of need."

"Well then, I do hope if I ever find myself in a bind that I'll have a judge as strong and as fair as yourself."

"Hopefully by 'fair' you mean in an unbiased sense."

"Of course."

Maribelle nodded and returned to her dinner.

Mister Levinson gave a kind smile and turned his attention to Mikhail who was silently eating at his food with little interest in the conversation, "How about you, Mister Mikhail? I heard you were a judge once yourself. How was retirement treating you?"

"Boring," Mikhail said with an uninterested drawl. "Couldn't stand it."

"A working man. It's rare to see someone as accomplished as you wanting to continue their work. Most nobles I come across barely as much lift a finger."

"Do not associate me with those 'kind,' Mister Levinson. I take great pride in my work," Mikhail coldly chided.

"Of course. Forgive me, I meant no disrespect."

There were several moments of tensed awkward silence before Maribelle spoke up again, "So, Mister Levinson, where is your family? Seems quite lonesome eating here with only the four of us."

Mister Levinson nodded appreciatively at the woman's change of subject, "My wife and two daughters are retired at the moment. They don't normally stay up as late as I do so it's only natural for them to not be present."

"I see," Maribelle mused as she tilted her head back to stare at the warm fireplace behind Mister Levinson's seat. "Is the dark lighting also something you affiliate yourself with?"

"Does it bother you?"

Maribelle shook her head, "No, just an observation is all."

Mister Levinson stared for a moment before he shook his head and chuckled, proceeding to answer the woman's question, "Not in particular, no. But I do confess it makes for a very comforting atmosphere."

"Oh?"

"The dark is a very strange beast," the duke began. "At times we associate darkness with cold, emptiness. But at the same time enwrapping. You see nothing of your body as if covered by a large blanket, like extra clothing to your skin. And that darkness feels warm. Or perhaps it is a stimulation by recognizing darkness like sitting next to a warm fire."

"Do you dabble in philosophy perchance?"

"I like to believe myself as more psychological than philosophical. Delving into a person's state of mind as opposed to unraveling life's mysteries. But I confess it doesn't make me immune to a few romantic fantasies."

"You must read a lot then," Maribelle stated as she finally set her utensils down and gave her full attention.

Levinson nodded, "I was often a lonesome child, hidden away from the rest of the world and left with only the pages in a book as my gateway. Fascinating stories made me wonder about man's state of mind and I sought to become a doctor. My father disapproved of course as I was to be heir to the estate," he paused. "He stated it wasn't a real profession."

"There are worst positions," Maribelle said.

"I'm sure."

Mister Levinson nodded once more until he looked at the priest who sat the furthest away from him. While Mikhail had the look of disinterest, the long blonde haired woman was wholly withdrawn and distant. Thus intrigued the duke to invite her into the conversation, "And how are you, my lady? It's rare to see a female bodyguard, especially not one as enchanting to the eye as yourself. I don't believe I've learned your name, Miss…" he trailed off.

"Libra," the priest answered simply.

"Libra," the duke repeated, tasting the name like a judge to a palate. "A rather masculine sounding name…"

Maribelle kindly smiled at the duke all the while trying to hide her irritation but simultaneously her amusement at the mistaken gender identity of her guard, "Ahem, ah, Mister Levinson," she paused once more trying to hide her smile. "There is a reason why Libra's name sounds so masculine. You see she is a… 'He'."

"A he?" Mister Levinson looked back at Libra with shocked awe.

"It is a common mistake," Libra replied while making slight eye contact. "You wouldn't be the first."

Mister Levinson held an astonished "O" with his lips at the revelation, momentarily unaware of his uncouth appearance until he quickly recovered, "Well, my sincerest apologies then, Mister Libra. I was… unaware."

"It is a common mistake, milord."

The duke nodded at first to Libra's lack comment, but then he tilted his head to one side, and then the other in genuine curiosity. Long bouts of silence passed before he asked, "My apologizes once again, Mister Libra. I fear it is the mind of the curious young boy in me that threatens to ask but, do you… identify yourself as another?"

"Pardon?"

"A man who appears very womanish, the symbol and the apex of beauty that all women wish to obtain. To be dressed so or to be confused so, the long hair is what puzzles me. Is there a reason behind your appearance?"

Libra hesitated at the odd question as he was taken away from his normally guarded demeanor, "...No."

Mister Levinson's brows furrowed, "Oh? Most would normally believe that to be a sickness-"

"I am not sick," Libra snapped.

The three nobles gave pause at Libra's aggressive rebuttal at Levinson's comment. His features angled downwards in offended anger and his jaw clenched as he fought against a snarl. However he realized who he was speaking to and the anger on his face disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared. He sighed and repeated himself much more quietly this time, "I am not sick."

Libra got up from his seat and pardoned himself with a small bow, "My apologizes, Mister Levinson. It has grown late and exhaustion has appeared to have given me loose lips. I believe it best that I retire for the evening."

The duke still had another astonished look on his face but nodded and called for the head footman, "Of course, Mister Libra. Richard, may you show him to his room?"

Richard gave a slight bow with his head and ushered the priest to follow him, leaving the three nobles to continue their meal.

"...Ah well then, Miss Maribelle, I've forgotten to ask you but how are your duties with the Shepherds? Borealis has heard tremendous things about their work."

* * *

"Here is your room, Master Libra. Your luggage is by the bed and the rest of your other belongings have already been set up by the window in case you feel like indulging yourself."

"Thank you, Richard," Libra nodded to the butler who gave a respectful bow and quietly closed the door behind him.

As Libra walked about the room, he naturally gravitated toward the warm fireplace in the dimly lit room. A common theme found throughout most of the mansion. The room was fairly large even for the fact that it was made for guests. A red rug on top of lacquer wooden flooring with a large single person chair was the first thing that came into view. In the background was a similar blood colored bed with a hanging canopy and then a fairly tall window that touched the cushioned seating attachment at the bottom and the room's ceiling up top.

In front of that window was an empty painter's canvas with two of Libra's brushes set on the side.

Libra heaved a sigh as he brought a hand to his temple and closed his weary eyes. While the days were not unkind to the veteran, horrors regarding the deaths of his fellow war monks in the last Plego-Ylissean conflict had long plagued his mind. But since their departure from Ylisstol two weeks past and their arrival here in Borealis hours prior, a new form of dread had crept into his heart.

Unknowingly, Libra's hand went up and rubbed at the scar at the nape of his neck.

With a sudden urge to paint, a skill he had taught himself not long after the war, Libra walked up to the canvas and found his paints and his palette carefully wrapped up in a sack and placed at the foot of the easel. Taking off his silver and gold coat, Libra put all the necessary colors on his palette and began to paint. Masterful in his own right, he painted nothing in particular except for the things that bothered him in his mind.

Hours later Maribelle would find the tired priest sleeping on the floor with multiple painted canvases placed near the window and an unfinished one still sitting on the easel. His arms wrapped tightly around a black bible and his face uncertain if it was at peace.

* * *

The next morning Libra awoke finding himself in bed and his bible placed carefully by the bedside table. As he got up he felt a soreness in his back that ached when he moved.

Libra looked around confused, unable to remember how he had ended up in bed or when he had fallen asleep in the first place. He remembered opening up the holy scripture of Naga for a few words of comfort but had drawn a blank after that.

" _How long was I awake?"_ he asked himself internally as he got out of his bed and mindlessly reached for his coat, which was placed on one of the corners at the feet of his bed.

The fireplace had long been extinguished which left the room in an almost chilly state given the snowy location the estate resided in. Libra took a brush from one his bags and walked over to a table that was attached to a large mirror revealing everything up from his torso when he sat down. Remembering the duke's comment at dinner the night before Libra let out a low, agitated growl before he began to comb at the long locks of hair that had become a mess since his evening snooze. Straightening them out until they returned to the angelic flows his acquaintances and admirers alike had associated with him.

Libra did not identify himself with the female gender as Mister Levinson had suggested, but at the same time the man wasn't wrong when he said there was a reason behind the priest's strangely long hair. It was a decision he made, not because he wanted to, but because of the shame that forced him to. The shame and the scar since that very day had haunted him for the rest of his life. The physical and emotional tearing that refused to heal.

Once his hair was straightened out and his body properly dressed, Libra made for the door, but not without looking back at his paintings strewn about the opposite side of the room. Curiosity gripped the young priest as he did not remember what or why he created what he did. Leaving the proximity of his bedroom door he walked away across to the lone unfinished painting atop the easel's legs.

He peered down and his eyes narrowed on his creation…

Several loud knocks on his door broke Libra out of his focus; turning around he heard someone call his name to check if he was awake.

Libra returned to the door and opened it to find a young maid staring up at him who was surprised at his tall height.

"Em, Mister Libra, I have been informed to tell you that breakfast is ready and that the others wish for you to join them."

Libra stared for several seconds at the young maid before he nodded and thanked her, "Ah, thank you, Miss…"

"Maggie, milady. Ah! Sah- milord! Milord?" the young maid stuttered as she stared at Libra's confusing features.

Libra paused at Maggie's confusion but smiled kindly as he walked past her with his hand on the door handle, "I am just a simple man of the cloth, but thank you, Maggie. I will be there shortly."

Maggie nervously nodded at the anglican clergyman and backed away when he stepped past. Seeing his back face toward her as he walked away, the young maid felt her heart flutter for just a moment and heaved a long sigh.

When the servant entered the room to make the bed, she noticed the unfinished painting by the window. Giving a quick glance behind her to see if anyone was looking, she then approached the canvas.

There upon the incomplete work of art was a portrait of a tall, smiling, and elegant woman with flowing blonde hair while wearing a ghostly white dress.

* * *

"Look at her. Have you ever seen a woman so magnificent? So… breathtaking?"

"She makes my heart flutter. I have never seen such beauty."

"But look at her robes, by the make she is a priestess. A holy union of both grace and purity intertwined."

"I could marry her…"

Libra sat at the bar counter on the opposite side of the room from the view of three gawking men, nobles given the bar's setting, and trying his best to ignore the obvious comments of lustful attractiveness towards him.

Comments or hushed whispers where people didn't think he could hear them, from both genders, were often part of the striking priest's day to day life. It didn't matter who they were, man or woman, rich or poor, his mere presence alone always caused people to talk, to swoon. Even at the church back in Ylisstol, Libra felt the enthralled eyes of much of the congregation focus not on the pastor but on he himself. The beautiful, silent priest that stood on the side.

People ogling him was not new and in time he had learned to accept it. But now, this one instance there was something new, something that irritated him even more than ever. The mere sounds of the men's voices shook him to his very core.

One of the men approached and Libra readied his rejection, "Good morning, my fair lady. I would like to introduce myself as-"

"An utter annoyance to everyone around you. Now shoo! He doesn't wish to talk."

Libra looked up surprised to find Maribelle standing next to him with her arms crossed and her face lit in vehement annoyance.

The well dressed aristocrat stepped back and gasped, "An annoyance? How dare you? I'll have you know that I am the eldest son of House Muir and I won't have you-!"

"Oh yes, we are all nobles here with a magnificent lineage. We are all aware of that," Maribelle took a step forward and passed her unopened parasol from her left shoulder to her right. "However there are some of us here with an actual purpose aside from fraternising with strangers in a bar."

"I have a purpose!"

"Of course, because drunken brawls, excessive late night parties, and destruction of property is a meaningful cause. You do your family's name and father proud."

"How do you know about my cases?" the son asked.

Maribelle smirked, "I am working to become a magistrate, so it is my duty to know about the different cases going on here. I have spoken with Judge Henrik and we both agree that punishments need to be made. Without the seat of your father's influence. "

The noble growled and Maribelle's smile grew as she watched him seethe, "Careful now, darling. All of your potential suitors are watching, you wouldn't wish to ruin that lovely complexion of yours with that scowl."

"I am a man!"

The noble woman cocked her head in mock astonishment, "Oh? Are you? Between your childish responses and your… infatuation with my friend here, I had assumed you were of the more feminine gender."

Mister Muir raised a confused brow, "What?"

"I'm a man," Libra finally said, surprising the young noble by standing up and towering over his shorter figure. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Muir."

The color disappeared from the aristocrat's face when he for the first time notice the more manly features in Libra's face and build, "A-a man?"

Libra gave a knowing smirk and nodded.

Maribelle suppressed a laugh from under her breath at the man-child's horrified expression and threatened, "Now go! Before I call the authorities for harassment and have you taken away and placed in a cell."

The man gave one more condescending glare before turning on his heel and left the room with a huff.

As the rest of the man's friends left the room, Libra turned to Maribelle with a small smile and bowed, "Thank you, Maribelle. It appears you've once again came to my aid as my knight in shining armor."

Maribelle returned the smile for a second before going into another sigh, "Honestly, Libra. One of these days you will need to tell these misbegotten followers of yours about your gender sooner. I won't always be there to save you from these potential lovers and some may even whisk you off for marriage before you even summon up the courage to say no."

"I try, my lady. But you always seem to come at the most convenient of times. Mister Muir barely finished his sentence before you descended on him like the archangel of justice."

The blonde woman huffed, "Oh enough about that boor, Libra. I came to see how you were doing. We barely had time since this morning and our arrival here to talk… You've seem more distant and I would like to know why."

Libra cocked his head in confusion, "Distant, my lady?"

"And enough with the 'my lady' nonsense, Libra. I've come to consider you as a friend, which to be frank is uncommon in and of itself. You are not some bodyguard-mercenary we found in the middle of nowhere like Gregor. So I order you to call me by my given name, Maribelle," the noble demanded.

The priest stared in disbelief for a second at Maribelle's small outburst and then chuckled at her words. Maribelle became puzzled at her friend's odd change in behaviour and demanded to know why he was laughing.

"My apologies, Maribelle. I just find it amusing for friends to 'order' other friends around in the name of friendship. I was unaware that was how it worked," Libra smugly crossed his arms. "And to be fair, you and the rest of the Shepherds did find me in the middle of nowhere."

"Oh hush, you know what I mean."

Libra gave another chuckle as Maribelle pulled out a pocket watch and checked the time, his expression softened once more as her eyes scanned over the small chronograph and the priest gave a curt nod, "Session is about to begin soon."

Maribelle agreed, "Indeed. Come, we mustn't be late."

As they walked through the literal halls in the Hall of Justice, a nagging feeling crept into Libra's mind. For the longest time since his return from Plegia he had felt alone. The fear, guilt, and sadness of loss from that conflict was ever so prevalent that on some nights he cried himself to sleep. But looking at Maribelle and experiencing this trip, he had felt some sort of release, even if it for some small moment. All these months of traveling she had been there for him even when he thought he didn't want her to be, whether it be a shoulder to cry on or a bodyguard from nagging flirts. There was a charm to her aggressive behaviour and even now she was unwilling to give up figuring out what ailed her friend… Her friend. The same way she was his.

"I'm sorry," Libra began and Maribelle's ears perked up when she recognized the signal that her friend wanted to talk. "I'm sorry for being such a burden to you all these months. For making you worry needlessly about my wellbeing."

Maribelle gave a sigh of relief, "Honestly, Libra. This was what this trip has been about, it has been so rare just to see you smile that sometimes I wonder if it really exists."

Libra chuckled as they passed by another window revealing the snowy landscape outside, "...You've asked not too long ago and even yesterday when we were traveling here about my strange behaviour. And I confess I have not been myself, or perhaps I was even more myself that I would like to admit. You've asked me time and time again what has been bothering me since our departure from Ylisstol… I believe I am ready to tell you."

The young woman looked almost astounded at the suddenness of her friend's confession. Normally in such circumstances she would ask her partner to wait until after the court sessions were over, but so rare in the months of knowing Libra she didn't dare stop what may be essentially a once in a lifetime opportunity.

Watching Maribelle's changed expression, Libra smiled and began his tale by asking a question, "Have I ever told you about my birthplace? Where I was born?"

"No…" Maribelle answered hesitantly.

Libra pointed a lazy finger toward the ground, "It was here, in Borealis. Twenty-three years ago."

Maribelle froze, stuck in her tracks as Libra brushed past her and subsequently causing the priest to stop.

She stared, "What?"

* * *

Just as the next court session was about to start, Maribelle made her way over to her usually spot in the jury box and Libra to the bare audience stand where there were about ten other people waiting to watch the trials.

Mikhail nodded at the younger woman as she sat down next to him and she returned with a barely attentive hello.

The courtroom was like any other; a large rectangular space for an audience should anyone be interested on one side, two jurors stands facing each other along the middle wall, and the judge's seat at its pinnacle at the very end. The center a low platform for the accused to stand alone. But Maribelle was not interested in the slight variations of the room as she was still trying to process the information that so easily caught her off guard. Libra opening up to her about his past seemingly out of thin air was largely uncharacteristic of him and definitely overwhelming.

" _He was born here, rejected by his parents at five, and ultimately became an orphan for the rest of his life,"_ she replayed his words over and over to herself in her head. She didn't want to believe it, or perhaps more specifically she couldn't believe it. The very thought of a child's parents abandoning them, outright rejecting their very being was such a common story to the magistrate in training that she thought she had become accustomed to it. But to know someone personally was different, to see the violent scar that had long healed on the back of Libra's neck was even more jarring.

The story sickened Maribelle to her core, she demanded retribution for his parent's actions, by her personality and her calling she demanded justice. But Libra denied her, claiming that he had learned to forget his past demons, that the help he received back in Ylisstol had taught him the error of his ways.

Maribelle wasn't a coward; for most of her short life she was constantly on ends with mostly everyone around her; her family, her peers. When she was a child she secretly wanted to be like everyone else, like every child did. But her cold and snobbish personality would always be her downfall, whether or not she meant the words she said. Consequently her childhood was much more lonely, much more miserable because of it. But at the same time it had made her stronger, not only as a woman but as an individual. And so when she finally met Princess Lissa for the first time and was accepted for who she was, her past didn't seem so bad, and her friendship became that much more treasured because of it.

So it was this that the thought of Libra going to Tharja and asking the dark mage to be her experiment in an attempt to erase his memories appalled her.

Maribelle looked over to the war monk sitting idly in the stands who in turn noticed her and quickly offered her a warm smile. She knew however from all her time spent with him that the smile was disingenuous.

Several more minutes of quiet chatter had past until finally the magistrate wearing the traditional white wig entered the court and took his throne at the opposite end of the room. A hushed silence filled the chamber as every eye fell on the old magistrate.

The magistrate soon introduced himself to everyone in the room and began with the regular procedures. Maribelle and Mikhail - along with everyone else sitting in the same juror's box as they did - stood up while they lifted their right hands and swore an oath of allegiance to both the state and the court. And while Maribelle wasn't technically a juror and was only there for learning purposes, the act of taking the oath always seemed exhilarating to her.

After a few more coupled minutes of waiting and preparation, the first offender was brought forward; an aged looking man charged for continuous repeated offenses of thievery and drunkenness.

Maribelle took a quick glance the man's appearance; the old man's hair was disheveled, fading with a mix of both grey and an encroaching white, a large, unkempt beard that reached the center of his chest, sunken eyes that stared endlessly into space, as if he wasn't quite sure where he was and was still drunk from the alcohol. There were dirt spots and bruises all over his body, as if he had been recently beaten. This man was the epiphany of the town drunk.

"Mr. Antolin Graves of the Eastern District, you have been brought here today on the most heinous crime of attacking your fellow man on the streets outside the Old Baron pub last Sunday evening and attempting to rob him of his worldly possessions from his person. This has been the third attack this year; what say you in your defense?"

Mr. Graves stared with a bored look on his face and continually rolled his head from side to side and smacked his lips. Finally speaking with a raspy voice, "Damn bastard got in me way, flain' dat cane o' his every which way. Thinkin' he some sorta hotshot. Fuck 'im! He think he can stroll around and uh- Knob almost lobbed me head off he did. I's just actin' in self-defense is all-"

"Mr. Graves these reports tell me a different story. Several witnesses and from a patrolling guard himself states that you were 'intoxicated beyond reason' and when Mr. Bossen walked by, you attacked him by taking his cane and beating him half to death with it!" the judge angrily reprimanded him.

The drunkard rocked on the balls his feet and turned his head straight up so that only his eyes could be seen starring above the bridge of his nose, "Liars. They all liars."

Maribelle brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose and shook her head in disbelief. Drunkards while usually not the most violent or terrible of offenders, were almost always the most frustrating. Any drug or substance that hindered a person's mind whether it be alcohol or opium in both long term or large doses deteriorated a person's mind to near incomprehensible levels, making it harder to understand them and thus making it harder to sympathize with their plight. This man was no different and the aspiring magistrate could think of very few saving graces for him despite her bias for the common man.

With a lazy turn of her head, Maribelle looked over at Libra to give him a joking smile at the silliness of the drunkard's excuse, but he didn't look back. The priest wore an almost murderous glare at the drunk, an aura of seething contempt Maribelle had seen him emanate a few times before. The same look he had during the Plegian conflict when his fellow priests and friends were killed.

It was a look that cried for retribution. It screamed for revenge.

"Mr. Graves, by my right as judge and by the court of law; for your multiple acts of violence and intoxication I sentence you to imprisonment within the Borealis prison. There you will live out the rest of your days or until it is deemed necessary for your release."

And just as quickly as it started, the individual case had ended and the second one begun. Mr. Graves, was lead by a guard who pulled him not so gently at the arm. When they passed by Libra's seat, the priest continued his seething glare at the drunk and Mr. Graves spat.

"The fuck you lookin' at, lady?"

As the door to the room closed and the second offender was led in, Libra clenched his teeth and gripped his fists together so hard his knuckles turned white. In the back of his mind was the torturous scream of a child, begging and kicking at the ends of his consciousness that he felt was about to burst. Maribelle watched worriedly from the sidelines as there was nothing she could do from her current position.

With a start Libra got up from out his seat; mostly no one had noticed the war monk rise and leave the room until the door slammed shut, silencing the courtroom for a brief second before they turned their attention back to the current matter at hand. Only Maribelle and Duke Mikhail noticed the violent storm that so suddenly left the quiet chamber.

* * *

" _Alive. He's still alive. After all this time he's still alive,"_ Libra stormed through the halls, walking he knew not where. " _I should have known. I should have known coming here was a terrible idea."_

Libra eventually came to an empty corridor where seemingly the only source of light was from the moon gleaming through the multiple windows and lighting the passageway; night had fallen quickly in the snowy region and the caretaker had yet to light the hallway lamps. But right now Libra cared little for light sources or seeing, instead he was overcome by a blind rage by what he had seen not too long ago. A ghost of a man, someone who if he had passed by casually on the streets would not have recognized. But that name, that name was all he needed to turn from a passive observer to a vehement wraith.

Graves. Graves. Antolin Graves. A name that felt so familiar that it agonized him to think about. A name that caused him so many painful memories that it was the very personification of despair. A name that not only belonged to the violent drunk but also to him.

"Father…" he growled.

Libra paced back and forth, bringing his fists up and down and growling in an attempt to calm himself down. Rarely had he felt this anger, this hatred. Right now the priest felt possessed as if he was overcome by a completely different entity. He thought he had moved on, by having Tharja witness some of the burdens in his heart he was able to free himself of the torment that tore at him for so long.

Instead it seemed to have grown worst.

Libra stood in that hallway for the longest time, waiting until the anger in his heart began to fade away and was left feeling numb. He took in deep breaths, one after another for several minutes until he finally felt he had a handle on his emotions. His body swayed and his legs subconsciously brought him to a wall where he slid down and sat, arms resting on his knees and his head tilted back.

A million thoughts ran through his head, yet at the same time it was like a barren wasteland where he couldn't conjure up a single sentence. He felt empty, a mix between a rush to do something and feeling as though there was nothing he could do.

"I need… I need… Oh, Naga… What do I need?" Libra asked the gods above. "After all this time, after being kicked out of my home, rejected by my own parents, my father is still alive. He's here. A drunkard, a horrible, violent drunk. Someone who is not so different from the man all those years ago… He's here."

Libra's head fell limp to the side, rolling against the wall as he repeated those lines as if they were the only words he knew.

"He's here."

His breathing became slow.

"He's here."

His teeth opened slightly, his eyes unblinking.

"He's here."

Insanity felt so comforting.

"He's here."

"He's here."

"He's here."

After what felt like an eternity, from the corner of his eye, Libra saw what appeared to be a small floating flame edging towards him. It stopped every now and then, leaving other bits of fire behind as the hallway subtlety became a bit brighter.

When the caretaker shone the candle in Libra's face, the priest slowly looked up and simply stared.

"What are you doing here sitting in the dark?" the caretaker asked.

Libra hesitated a moment before finally speaking.

"Do you know where the prison is located?"

* * *

Cold, dark, and decrepit. That was what the small prison holding was. And not unlike the hallways in the courthouse not too long ago, everything was dark with only the moon as the sole lightsource.

Libra shivered, bringing his hands up to warm his arms. He noticed as he walked by the plethora of cells that there were no windows covering the small openings above the low, ten foot wall. There were only bars in which to provide light and prevent escape, but nothing to stop the cold or the snow from coming in. It was colder in here than it was with the snow outside.

While not told to the prisoners explicitly, imprisonment within these walls were practically a death sentence. Frostbite and freezing to death was Borealis' way of capital punishment.

Libra casually looked at each cell as he walked by, searching for a bearded man, sitting in his own filth and rotting in his cage. For the most part, almost every cell was empty. Perhaps it meant that the town had a good grip on its criminal population, or perhaps it was a hint at how quickly each prisoner froze to death in their makeshift tombs.

Finally he came upon the cell with the long bearded man.

At first Libra almost walked by without noticing the occupied cell. From a glance one could have very easily missed the man's feet just barely peaking out of the room's dark shadows. But there he was, silent and cold, as if the prison had robbed him of any form of speech and rendered him mute, sitting in the back corner of his cell and rotating his head when he saw he had a visitor.

Several more moments of deadly silence filled the void.

"The hell do you want?" Mr. Graves asked with a strained voice.

Libra stared down at the floor, unable to make himself stare at the pitiful man.

Mr. Graves adjusted his position on the floor and crawled forward, revealing his face. The sound of chains crinkling with each movement, "Oi, you're that lady from the court. Starin' at me with them beady eyes o' yours. What'chu come for? You fancy me? You fancy me don'tcha? Come take me away from this blasted dump? It's cold in here y'know. Think you can seduce that guard over there? Take his key? We can run off together if ya like."

Libra's hands curled into fists and he clenched his teeth.

"Hey. Hey, stupid. You hear me? Stop standin' there like some creepy ol' witch and git me outta here. I ain't gettin' no younger."

"Eighteen years," the quiet priest began, surprising the prisoner by cutting him off. "Eighteen years of abandonment. Forgotten. Alone. Eighteen years since you and mother left me. To rot in that forsaken orphanage. Your only son disposed off, like rubbish to the heap."

Mr. Graves stared back at that unflinching glare, confused by what the blonde woman had said. His breathing had slowed and his mouth was slightly opened ajar before he stood up, "Son? Woman what're you talkin' 'bout? I- I ain't got no time for games! You gonna let me out or what?"

"Mr. Graves," Libra said, just barely above a whisper. "Do you not remember me? The one you had abandoned so long ago?" his hand rose and gripped the lower ends of his long hair, bringing it up so it looked like a makeshift ponytail. "Does this help?"

The old man looked at the womanly priest, except now her features didn't seem so womanly. Now having a closer look he saw bits of scars running across the monk's face, scars that were normally hidden by the person's long hair. Seeing them in literally a new light, Antolin realized he was staring into the face of a man. Not just any man, but the face of his…

"No!" Mr. Graves screamed, hastily backing away into his cell. "No! Go away ya foul creature! Monster! Demon! You come with the mask of an angel but have the face of Grima!"

"You left me, father!" Libra roared. "You and mother left me! Threw me to the side of the road and left me to die! You never told me why! Why would you leave me?"

"Go back!" Mr. Graves picked up a metal cup in his cell and threw it at the bar doors. "Back I say! Your ghost powers have no power over me!"

"Father I just want to know!" Libra begged, gripping the bars and pressing his face against the prison doors. "Why would you and mother leave me? Was I a bad child? Did you hate me? Did you no longer love me? Why?"

"Go away!"

"Where is mother?"

"Demon!"

"Was it demon possession? I don't remember any of that; I became a priest because of you!"

"Get out!" Mr. Graves screamed with finality. He then walked into the back of his cage and picked the cup up again before marching back to the door. Libra's eyes widened and he stepped back, afraid that the deranged man was going to hurt him. Mr. Graves smashed the cup into the hinges multiple times, back and forth, back and forth, all the while screaming his lungs out for a guard to come.

"Help! Help! Someone help! Demon! There's a demon in me cell! Get her out!"

Libra hesitated as he watched the screaming man, stock frozen in fear when a door down the hallway opened and a guard called out trying to figure out the commotion. Before the guard could even approach Libra moved, walking as fast as he could and trying to widen the distance between him and the prison as much as possible. When the door to the tiny prison cell closed, all Libra could hear from inside was the screams of a wailing man followed by the beating sounds of boot to flesh and bone.

* * *

Libra walked, he walked through the cold and quiet town. He ignored the voices of pedestrians shuffling across the stone pathways and returning to their homes. He ignored the dimming lights and vendors putting away their stock. He ignored the fact that he walked for almost half an hour in one direction with no place in mind. And he ignored the fact that he left Maribelle and Mikhail behind in the courthouse.

He ignored the screams. He ignored the accusing fingers. He ignored the sweat covered face and the beatings. He ignored the cries of the tiny child in the back of his mind. The whimpers and the crying. He ignored it all and walked.

Once he felt he could walk no more, Libra stopped. Standing at what seemed to be the edge of town where almost no sign of life could be felt. He felt cold, the tips of his fingers numb and his breath was the only source of warmth he had before it froze into watery crystals and faded out of existence.

He had no love. He had no parents. No friends he could call his own, all of them killed trying to save the former exalt. Their bodies buried in the cemetery outside of the country's capital.

He was nothing. And will forever be, left with nothing.

As he looked up, Libra finally caught his bearings of where he stood. Woods, woods as far as the eye could see. Blanketed by darkness with only a single decrepit path leading into the forest. The longer Libra stared into the darkness, the more comforted he felt. He saw nothing but pitch black, but he felt as though someone was calling for him, whispering his name and ushering him to come. He took a step forward into the dark woods, following the sounds until the only thing around him was darkness.

He saw a light up ahead and the light took form. What he saw was a figure of a woman with long, flowing hair. An angel, the very apex of beauty, smiling back at him. Libra stopped, stunned by the woman as her lips curled, she brought a hand forward and invited him forward.

Libra followed the glowing woman who seemed to float along the path, lighting the trees as she passed by. For several minutes he followed, not knowing where or why but felt compelled to do so. Soon the trees didn't feel so narrow and they eventually parted, opening up to a large and foreboding home. The spectral woman turned around and with a smile, motioned him closer before disappearing beyond the frame.

The priest followed all the way up the front porch, subtle gusts of wind created echoes in the surrounding woods. He thought he heard chimes singing in the background and against all reason, against the screaming voice in the back of his head, he took hold of the door handle and turned. He then took in a deep breath before walking inside.


End file.
